Second Look
by TheOtterKnight
Summary: "What's happened?" Newt demands, looking between them. "Why're you two looking like you just fell in love?" He knew that look because Thomas used to look at him the same way. / Newtmas, Arismas, Thomesa. Angst-ish. Bookverse but you don't have to read the book.


**A/n:** Alternatively titled: I wanted some angst.

 **Universe:** Bookverse. Movieverse Aris.

 **Pairing(s):** Newt/Thomas, Thomas/Teresa, Aris/Thomas.

 **Disclaimer:** Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own, don't bother to sue. This is slash, but don't bother to bash. (:

* * *

There was a faint hum of electricity above them, but otherwise no one else really dared to breath while they waited for Teresa to emerge from the bathroom, the sound of the running sink being the only other noise.

Newt spares a glance over at Thomas, who is wringing his hands and leaning forward, eyes sparking in a way that was only reserved for Teresa. Teresa ... well, Thomas was lucky to have Teresa. His throat feels dry as he admits this to himself. It was obvious by the way that they had instinctively reached for each other back in the Glade that they had meant something to each other before their memory was wiped.

He could feel the warm flush of jealousy creep through his chest, knowing that it wasn't him that Thomas was so eagerly looking forward to. Although.. Newt had seen the way that Thomas looked at him, with appraising eyes and a shy smile. There was a certain way that he looked at Newt that he didn't look at Teresa.

It was dizzying, knowing that there was something that they had that Teresa could never take. Besides, Teresa was a beauty all in herself, Newt could tell why Thomas liked her. Even so ... he wished they had more time to discuss it in length, now that they had, well, more peace than they had back at the Glade. But maybe they discuss their relationship and maybe how it spanned past what they currently were. _By the Creators, do I hope so._ He smiles despite himself, knowing that even if after all was said and done, Thomas still chose Teresa - well, that would be fine, so long as he was happy. No matter if all that Newt wanted to do was pull the brunette close and snog the living daylights out of him. He'd be willing to give Thomas the world if he asked it of him.

The door opens, and Thomas instinctively takes a step forward, arms outstretched before he abruptly stops short, jaw going slack. "Who the shuck are you?"

It's a boy, around Thomas' height, with thin shoulders and a mop of dark hair, thin eyebrows and small mouth. He had olive skin and was wearing what every other boy wore the day they arrived. "Who am I? Who are _you?"_ His eyes squint suspiciously at all of them.

"We outnumber you - we could easily get the information from you in other ways," Newt begins to explain.

The boy folds, seemingly frightened of the veiled threat. Newt feels a flash of guilt - he hadn't intended to intentionally threaten the boy, but it was entirely possible that WICKED left him there as a ploy. His name is Aris, and that's about as much as they can get out of him before Minho comes barreling in, a few straggling Gladers with him and the introductions are repeated. The interrogation is quick, and it becomes apparent that the dark eyed boy was willing to give up information.

Newt watches Thomas restlessly pace the room. "No. First we need to go find Teresa. She must be in some other room."

"Isn't one," Minho explains. Thomas rounds on him, evidently grasping at straws.

"Didn't anyone notice other rooms, a kitchen, anything?" Thomas' dark eyes light on Newt, as if looking for help. Newt is all too willing to go to his rescue - to take his side.

"Maybe there's a hidden door," Newt takes a breath. "Look, we can only do one thing at a time, we need to-"

His words are steamrolled over by Thomas, a panicky look overtaking his face, "No! We have to find her, the sign said she'd be here." He turns to the door, Newt's hands shooting out to grasp his wrist but the brunette had already fled, slamming the door behind him. They all spare a look at each other, Newt's mouth thins into a small line.

"Well, we best get the beds down so everybody can sit down, at least. Maybe Tommy'll have stopped pouting, when he comes back." Minho nods in agreement and they set to work, unbolting the top bunks and dragging them to the ground, Aris surprisingly willing to help.

They all grabbed a seat, a few spare spots dotting in between the Gladers. Newt felt a flash of guilt when he saw that nearly everybody steered clear of the new boy, giving him a wide girth. Aris was frowning, lips curling downwards as he picked at the hem of his shirt.

"Told ya, dude. Have a seat and we'll talk; we waited on your lazy shank butt. But close that shuck door, it smells worse than Gally's feet in here," Minho says, patting the mattress next to him. Newt's head snaps up, away from Aris, noticing the boy in the doorway. Thomas had returned, looking defeated, shoulders sagging and a frown was heavy set on his face.

Despite the fact that Teresa was missing, Newt found his mouth curling into a fond smile when Thomas dragged his feet over to the blond, ignoring Minho's invitation to sit next to him, and sits down next to Newt with a solid sound. Newt's hand immediately goes to settle along Thomas' shoulders, acting as an anchor for him. Thomas shoots him a relieved smile.

It doesn't take long to figure out the parallels of what Aris was saying - there was another Group, with the same experiment and almost the same results. Aris had interrupted part way through of Newt's rushed questions, hands raising in a placid manner. He is evidently surprised at the fact that there are two Groups. Subconsciously, Newt relaxes just a bit.

At some point, Newt's hand had lowered from Thomas' shoulders to settle between them, and he was content with just letting Thomas interlock their pinkies, the small bit of physical contact was comforting. "Wait, did they .. did they call you the trigger?" Thomas leans forward, licking his lips in a way that could distract Newt for hours on end. His face had taken on a pasty sheen, his eyes glassing over with whatever epiphany he had.

"How did..."

"Could you talk to someone else? A girl? You know ... telepathically, like in your mind," Thomas whispers. Newt stiffens when he notices the new guy's demeaner change entirely, his jaw setting firm and his eyes grasping for that last bit of hope.

Thomas' reaction was instant, his hand lashing out to grab onto Newt's, his grip like a vice, his jaw dropping and an awestruck look hitting his eyes. There's a distracted look in his eyes, but it wasn't hard to tell that he was only focusing in on Aris.

Newt's heart stutters in his chest, missing a beat painfully. He knew that look, he knew it as well as he knew the back of his hand. He remembered when Thomas had that glaze in his eyes, a burning passion that lit up his every movement, so bright with such hope and emotion that it melted you. Newt knew that look because Thomas once looked at him that way. "What's happened? Why're you looking at each other like you just fell in love?" He asks between clenched teeth, trying to school his features but it doesn't work; both Minho and Frypan shoot him an exasperated look.

"Isn't it obvious? He's a freak, just like Thomas," Minho's lip curls, but his eyes are looking over at Newt with an openly worried expression. The lanky blond is too appalled to completely grasp the theory that Minho knew - that it was likely the whole Glade knew that the second in command and the greenie had a thing going.

But maybe not anymore.

"I'm so sorry that she's dead," Thomas says, sounding out of context, but maybe it's a verbal response to whatever the new bloke was pushing into his head. His skin crawled, his head and chest ached and his eyes burned. How could he handle the fact that Aris was speaking into _his_ Tommy's head? It was bad enough with Teresa.

Thomas lets go of Newt's hand and shuffles over, feet sliding across the cool floor, each sound sending another splinter of shock rippling through him. Thomas wasn't one for physical contact, but he initiates it, enveloping the olive toned boy into a hug awkwardly, an intimacy that only seems strengthened by whatever telepathic bond they shared.

Jealousy pooled in Newt's stomach like acid, and he couldn't help but be aware of how cold he was without Thomas there.

Not for the first time, did he wish Teresa was back. She may have been a beautiful girl and thus proved whatever bond that Newt and Thomas had moot, but this .. this was not okay. Aris had swept Thomas away with just a thought - something that Newt couldn't even attempt to compete with - and Thomas just _let it happen._ Newt could handle being second to Teresa, but not to Aris - never to him.

He had been replaced, and he didn't like it one bit.


End file.
